Chapter 3

Chapter Three

L ila

The sun burns high above the jagged cliffs of Devil's Peak, its light searing against the craggy rocks and casting shadows that stretch like fingers over the mountain's rough terrain. I stand at the base of a beginner's climbing route that begins at the edge of the Devil's Peak Lodge property. I tug at the straps of my new harness, trying to figure out how to adjust it. My floral dresses and skirts are back at the lodge, replaced with fitted hiking pants and a snug athletic top that clings to my curves. Even dressed like this, I feel out of place here—too polished, too careful for the rugged wildness of the Rockies.

I glance up at the rock face, my stomach twisting with a mix of determination and nerves. I won't let this man see me falter. He's standing a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches me fumble with the harness. The man is maddening, with his infuriating confidence and the way he seems to see right through me. I try to ignore him, focusing instead on the buckles in front of me, but his presence looms large, filling the space between us.

"You know, princess, that harness won't do much good if it's twisted like that." His voice is all gravel and amusement, cutting through the quiet of the mountain. He doesn't even try to hide his laughter.

I grit my teeth, refusing to look at him. "I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of figuring this out myself. And stop calling me princess." The words come out sharper than I intend, but my hands betray me, trembling as they fumble with the straps.

"What should I call you then?" His grin deepens.

"Lila," I say simply.

A low chuckle escapes him. He takes a step closer, boots crunching on the gravel, until his shadow falls over me. He doesn't ask for permission as he reaches out, fingers brushing against mine, guiding the harness into place.

"Nice to meet you, Lila. Name's Holt," he murmurs, leaning in close enough that his breath warms my ear. His hands move with an easy confidence, tightening the harness around my hips, pulling the straps until they're snug against my body.

I go still, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of his touch. His fingers linger, brushing over the curve of my waist, and my breath catches in my throat. I hate that my skin prickles under his hands, heat flooding my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see me flustered.

Holt's eyes meet mine, his smirk edging into something more predatory, and I square my shoulders, tilting my chin up defiantly.

"So, Holt… Are you always so grumpy or do you just like ordering people around?" My voice is sharper than I feel, but I catch the way it softens at the end, and I see the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

He leans back slightly, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at me. "You've got a mouth on you, city girl. Let's see if you're as tough as you talk." He gestures toward the rock face, his grin infuriatingly confident. "And I do like ordering people around. Now start climbing."

I want to wipe that look off his face, but more than that, I want to prove him wrong. I turn to the rock, planting my hands on the rough surface. The stone is cool under my palms, gritty against my fingers, and I try to focus on that instead of the way Holt's presence feels like a weight pressing down on me.

"Put your foot here, and lean into the wall," he says, his voice low and close to my ear as he steps up behind me, his breath warm against my neck. He presses a hand against my lower back, guiding me forward, and the contact is like a jolt of electricity racing through my veins. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, forcing myself to follow his instructions.

Holt catches the shiver that runs through me, and his hand tightens slightly against my back. His voice drops lower, turning huskier. "What's wrong, Lila? Too close for comfort?"

There's a challenge in his tone, a deliberate push, and I can't tell if he's testing me or if he's just enjoying seeing me squirm.

I grit my teeth, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'm not scared of you."

The words are breathless, but I won't let him win this. I shift my weight, trying to find my footing, but my boot slips against the rock, and I stumble back into him, colliding with his solid chest.

Holt's arm wraps around my waist, holding me steady, and for a moment, I feel the hard planes of his body pressing against mine, his muscles taut under his faded T-shirt. His breath skims over the side of my neck, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that sends shivers through me. "Maybe you should be, princess."

His fingers press into my hip, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me of his strength, his control. It's infuriating, but it's also... something else, something I don't want to admit to myself. My skin burns where he touches me, a heat curling low in my belly, and why do I like it when he calls me princess? I push against his chest, twisting out of his hold.

I turn to face him, glaring up at him, refusing to show how much he's rattling me. "You may intimidate most women but I'm not most women." My voice shakes, but I make sure to hold his gaze, daring him to push me further.

Holt takes a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but there's a knowing heat in his gaze that sends another wave of warmth through me. "You certainly aren't, are you? But if you want to make it to the top, you're going to have to get used to taking orders and being pushed." His voice is rougher now, like he's struggling to keep himself in check, and there's a challenge in his eyes that stirs something dangerous inside me.

I clench my jaw, turning back to the rock face, determined to ignore the way his voice makes my heart race. I plant my hands firmly on the stone, focusing on the climb, but I can feel Holt's gaze tracking my every move, the weight of his presence like a physical touch.

I channel my frustration into my movements, clawing my way up the first few feet of the climb, each step a small victory. I try not to think about how close he is, how his voice wraps around me like a low, teasing caress. But with every touch of his hand, every adjustment of my stance, I can't shake the feeling that there's more than just the mountain between us.

"Good," he says, and his voice is warmer now, like he's seeing me in a different light. "Now, keep your hips close to the rock. It'll help with your balance."

I shoot him a quick glare over my shoulder, but I follow his advice, adjusting my stance. I hate that it actually helps, that I'm starting to find a rhythm in the climb. But I can't deny the thrill that shoots through me when I hear the hint of approval in his voice.

As we climb higher, the mountain air cools the sweat on my skin, but my cheeks burn under Holt's watchful gaze. I focus on the rock beneath my hands, trying to ignore the way he steps closer, his hands brushing against mine, guiding me through each hold.

When we reach a small ledge, I pause, panting from the effort, my arms trembling with the strain. I lean back against the rock, trying to catch my breath, but Holt doesn't give me a moment to recover. He steps into my space, crowding me against the stone, his arm braced above my head.

"Not bad, princess," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver racing through me. "You're tougher than you look after all."

I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze with a defiant glare, even though my pulse is racing. "You wish you could scare me off. But I'm not going anywhere."

Holt's smirk widens, and he leans in, his mouth inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. "Good. Because I'm just getting started."

For a heartbeat, the air between us crackles with tension, thick and charged, and I can't help the way my breath catches in my throat. Then, with a final, infuriating smile, Holt pulls back, stepping away from the ledge and leaving me reeling, my heart thudding against my ribs.

"Lesson's over for today. You did better than I expected," he says, turning away like he hasn't just knocked the ground out from under me. "You're impressive, city girl." His grin quirks to one side. "You have grit, I like that about you."

I swallow hard, forcing myself to follow him down the trail, my mind spinning with frustration and something darker, something hotter. I tell myself I don't care what Holt thinks of me—that I'm just here to get my story and leave. But as I watch him move with easy confidence ahead of me, I know that something between us shifted on that ledge, whether I'm ready to admit it or not.

And judging by the knowing look Holt shoots me over his shoulder, he knows it too.